slip of the tongue | cmr: December 2004

Tuesday, December 21, 2004

Fingernails... (6/12/2000)

Fingernails bitten to raw splintered bones.
Red skin, flesh, reaching to the wrist.
Envy and rage and heartless conjectures.
Sighing.
Sighing.

Monday, December 20, 2004

Taste (part two?)

the stocking i don on my leg for you
is a treatise, a thank you,
for the luscious and langorous swipe
of your tongue on my chest
and between my breasts--
a slip that forces it's wet and hard softness
between my lips
pulling them apart
exposing them to the cool but fresh air,
halted and momentarily by your breath.
I whisper the word, but what I really mean is
"more."
More. Of you. Now. In me.
More.

Tuesday, December 07, 2004

rustling like comfort...

rustling like comfort
in a cozy space,
waiting for snow to fall.
I can almost smell it,
whispering on my lips--
taste me to see why it makes me swell,
listen to my neck beneath the breath;
closer in this cozy space...
wait...

Wednesday, December 01, 2004

Late

After the call was called out
and the lights drifted by behind us
I brought you home in drizzle
and showed you my movie collection.
We smoked next to the window,
the fog of it blanketing our speech
and when we saw the hour,
how late it was,
we vowed we could just never sleep.

slip of the tongue | cmr